This Could Be a Shipwreck on the Shore
by Imagination-Parade
Summary: After Dexter's death in the final showdown with Oliver Saxon, Debra Morgan and Hannah McKay learn to navigate their futures without him, with Harrison, and with each other. (Eventual Deb/Hannah, though rated M mostly for the language)
1. This Could Be a Shipwreck on the Shore

**Hi everyone :) This is part one of a two-part story. As always, I own nothing but my blu-rays.**

**I.**

The wrapping of a knock against her new hotel room door is light and hesitant and the first sign of trouble.

Hannah McKay peers out the little peep hole in the door and finds Debra Morgan standing outside in the dimly lit hallway, seemingly fixating on something interesting on the ceiling. Deb runs her fingers through her hair and takes a deep breath. The door opens, and Deb's swollen, red eyes briefly meet Hannah's before dropping to the carpet. Hannah's stomach drops as she steps to the side to let Deb inside.

"Well, you're not the Morgan I was expecting," Hannah says, attempting to diffuse the tension with a quip. She quickly pulls a cream-colored silk robe over her light pink nighty but doesn't bother to tie it shut.

Deb glances her up and down and thinks she's missing a prime opportunity to make fun of the blonde's _Barbie_-inspired attire, if only she weren't feeling so defeated. She walks in without a word and slowly shuts the door, leaning her ass and palms against it for the stability that's rapidly becoming necessary.

"What's wrong?" Hannah asks, her face finally settling into a hard-edged glare.

"I have to tell you something, and I don't fucking know how to do it because I don't…because I don't believe it myself yet," Deb says.

"Debra, where's Dexter?" Hannah asks.

Deb finally, for the first time upon walking into the room, meets Hannah's gaze, and it only takes a few seconds before Hannah just _knows_. Her mouth drops slightly, and tears threaten to fill Hannah's gray-blue eyes, but she employs a technique she's nearly perfected over the years and blinks them away.

"What, umm…how?" Hannah breathes.

"Saxon," Deb says. "He got him, tied him up, but I guess he decided to let the law have him instead of…taking care of it himself."

"Well, that doesn't sound like Dexter," Hannah protests.

"Look, I don't know why he didn't follow through, okay? But he called me instead; I was on my way to arrest Saxon. By the time I got there, they were both as good as dead. I don't know exactly… Dexter usually pieces together the stories at crime scenes."

"As _good as_?" Hannah's hand flies to cover her mouth as her voice cracks with shock and pain.

"It was a fucking bloodbath in there. Deputy Clayton's been following Dexter. I think he ran in when Dexter was talking to me and let Saxon go," Deb says. "_Shit_, he's dead, too, by the way. At least that one's a win for you."

Hannah scoffs and glances, mouth agape, at the ceiling. With a slight shake of her head, she turns away from Deb and starts gathering her things. With a deep, steadying breath, she says, "Thank you for telling me. I'll, uh…I'll be out of your hair by morning."

"Where are you going to go?" Deb asks.

"I, uh…I don't know. Dexter got me a passport. Maybe I'll go…" She drops the shoe she's holding and sinks down onto the little bench at the foot of the bed. "Maybe I'll just let Elway catch me. Don't worry; I'll pretend I've been hiding out in hotels this whole time. Nothing will come back on you."

"The fuck would you do that for?" Deb asks.

With a defeated shrug of her shoulders, Hannah sighs. Deb moves to the center of the room and sits down on the edge of the bed, her back perpendicular to Hannah.

"You're not going _anywhere_," Deb says.

"Excuse me?" Hannah asks.

"There was nothing I could do for Dexter by the time I found him. An ambulence never would've gotten there in time, but he had enough strength left in him to recognize me and ask me to protect you," Deb tells her. "My brother's last words, his _last wish_, were about you and your safety, so there is no way in hell I'm letting you give yourself over to that slimeball Elway."

"Why would you…I mean, you and I don't exactly…" Hannah says. She stands and walks around the room, anything to distract herself from falling apart.

"No, but I fucking love my brother," Deb says. "And I think he really fucking loved you."

With that, Hannah mimics Deb's earlier actions and leans against the wall, slowly sinking to the floor as her heart breaks and her face crumbles. She crosses her arms against her bent knees and leans forward, burying her face in the crook of her elbow. Deb, her back still turned away from Hannah, closes her eyes as the sounds of the other woman's heavy sobs meet her ears. She turns just in time to see Hannah pick her head up and attempt to wipe her tears away, her robe slipping down her shoulders. Deb stands and awkwardly heads towards the door.

"I, uh, I have to go get Harrison," Deb mutters.

Hannah lets out a little gasp and whispers, "Oh, _Harrison_…"

"Yeah," Deb mutters again, fighting her own tears from making a reappearance. "So I'll…call you later."

Hannah nods, and Deb heads towards the hotel hallway. The door clicks shut behind her, and Hannah slumps against the hard, cold wall, letting her tears fall again.

**II.**

Deb's cozy little beach house for one turns into a home for three, and, despite her less-than-fuzzy feelings for one of her home's new permanent occupants, she quickly finds that she doesn't really mind. She comes home from the station most nights to the smells of dinner cooking in the kitchen and the sight of Harrison curled up on the couch with Hannah, and the less Dr. Seuss books she has to read, the happier she is.

Jamie drops the surly attitude towards Deb when Dexter dies, and she still takes the little boy to pre-school, to the park, to the pool…all of the places that Hannah can't. Deb tries to hide their new living arrangement from Jamie, but a problem arises when Deb tells the younger woman to drop him off at the house after his playdate. Jamie asks if she'll be home and, with a roll of her eyes, said she heard _all_ about her dinner plans with Quinn when she visited her brother for lunch that afternoon.

"It's okay; someone will be there," Deb assures her. Jamie asks who; Deb starts to simply say "someone…" again when Jamie cuts her off and says she's not leaving a four year old on the front stoop if she doesn't know who's inside. Deb groans and finally says, "Dexter's girlfriend, okay? Dexter's girlfriend will be there."

"Dexter had a…" Jamie starts. She trails off, and Deb swears she sees the color drain from Jamie's face. "Hannah McKay…all that stuff on the news about her maybe being back in Miami…that's true?"

"Yes," Deb admits.

"And she _lives_ with you?" Jamie asks. Deb says yes again. Jamie asks why.

Silence hangs in the air between the women for a long time before Deb sighs and says, "Because she's his mother."

Jamie laughs in disbelief. "Oh my god, you can't be serious."

"She won't hurt us," Deb promises.

"Do you really believe that?" Jamie asks.

After another long moment of silence and another long sigh, Deb shrugs. "Dexter did."

One night, after Harrison's gone to bed, Deb grabs a beer and plops down on the couch next to Hannah. She glances at Deb and looks bewildered for a moment, as her interaction with Deb is rather limited after Harrison's asleep for the night. Hannah puts a bookmark in between the pages of her book and sets it down, sensing a forthcoming conversation.

"Jamie thinks he should see a child psychologist," Deb finally says.

"Really?" Hannah asks.

"She thinks he's depressed or something."

"She's probably right," Hannah says. "He's four years old and has already lost both parents."

"So you think it's a good idea?"

"It couldn't hurt," Hannah shrugs. "But it's your call."

Deb isn't yet home when Jamie drops the boy off from his first appointment, but Hannah meets him at the door. He's holding a yellow folder and wraps his arms around Hannah's waist for a hug before he drops to the floor in the middle of the living room. Hannah sits down, too.

"How'd it go, sweetie?" she asks.

"I told Miss Jane I like to draw, so she had me draw pictures of my new home," Harrison said, handing her the folder.

Hannah pulls a picture out of Harrison's folder. The drawing depicts Deb's beach house and features sand and a palm tree outside of a small house decorated with rainbow lights. A short blonde boy in jeans and a blue shirt stands on the beach next to two taller female figures: a brunette in jeans and a striped shirt holding hands with a blonde in a pink dress. Hannah puts the picture down on the floor and points to the girls.

"Harrison, why are your Aunt Deb and I holding hands?" she asks.

"Aubrey and Lilly from my class are best friends, too, and they _always_ hold hands," Harrison shrugs as he reaches for the remote on the coffee table.

Hannah's mouth drops and curves into an amused grin, but she quickly purses her lips and chuckles to herself. It's not until the laughter subsides that she realizes Harrison talking about her to a stranger might be a cause for concern. She doesn't correct Harrison regarding the nature of her relationship with Deb, but she does hang the picture onto the refridgerator for Deb to find.

Harrison is washing up for dinner in the other room when Deb comes home. She wanders in to the kitchen to see what Hannah is fixing.

"So what's on the menu toni…" Deb starts, coming to an abrupt stop as she spots the picture on the fridge. "What the fuck is this?"

"The psychologist told Harrison to draw a picture of his new home," Hannah said, leaning over the counter with the same amused grin as before.

"And we're holding hands because…?" Deb asks, taking the picture off the fridge and dangling it in front of Hannah's face.

"Oh, Harrison thinks you and I live together because we're besties," Hannah reveals.

Deb looks at Hannah, scoffs, and drops the picture onto the counter. "When pigs fucking fly."

**III.**

The urn full of Dexter's ashes sits tauntingly on a shelf in the living room.

Hannah always scurries past it, refusing to lay her eyes on it as she walks by; Deb tries to hide it behind books and photos. When the women catch Harrison solemly staring up at it for the third day in a row, they share a look and know it can't stay where Deb's placed it.

Harrison wakes Hannah up just after one o'clock in the morning. Hannah stirs, opens one eye, and scoots over on the mattress. The little boy is a frequent middle-of-the-night visitor to Hannah's room.

"Come 'ere, sweetie," she mutters.

"Hannah, wake up," he says, tugging on the sheets covering her body.

She groans as Harrison turns the lamp by her bed on. She looks him over as best she can through blurry, sleepy eyes, and asks, "Why are you dressed?"

"Aunt Deb says we're going to say goodbye to Daddy."

Hannah wanders in to the living room with bare feet and denim shorts pulled on underneath her lavender tank top. Deb is standing by the door, two sets of keys in one hand, Dexter's urn in the other. Hannah crosses her arms underneath her breasts and asks what's going on. Deb simply asks where Harrison has gone.

Hannah repeats the questions, and Deb, in a rather cavalier manner, reveals her plan to scatter Dexter's ashes in the middle of the ocean. Hannah opens her mouth as if she's about to say something, closes it again on a swallow, and finally asks if that's really necessary.

"We can't let that little boy stand there and _stare at it_ for the rest of his life," Deb says, her shakey voice betraying her haughty attitude. Hannah concedes and asks how they're going to accomplish this.

Deb shakes one of the keychains she's holding. "_Slice of Life_. I haven't found a buyer yet."

"You know how to operate that thing?" Hannah asks with surprise.

"I got a boating license when Dexter did," Deb tells her. Hannah raises her eyebrow. Deb shrugs and simply adds, "Little sister."

"Anything Dex could do, you could do, too?" she asks with a smile.

"Exactly. Now let's go. I think we could all use a little fucking closure," Deb says. Hannah shifts her weight awkwardly from one foot to another and peers down at the ground. "What?"

"Elway," Hannah says. "He's still after me. Getting me back _into_ this house was enough of a gamble…"

"You have _no_ idea how fucking hard it was to get Batista and everyone at the station to agree to let me scatter Dexter's ashes 'alone,'" Deb says, using her fingers for airquotes. "But I fought them and told them they couldn't come for _you_, so move your fucking ass, and get in the car."

The boat rocks heavily back and forth on the ocean as Deb brings it an abrupt stop. Hannah has her arm around a life-jacketed Harrison, who watches with wide eyes as Deb opens the urn by the side of the boat. She pours some of the ashes into the lid and tells Harrison to come here. He slowly walks towards his aunt.

"Okay, so…say whatever you want to say and then dump this into the water, okay?" Deb asks.

Harrison immediately tears up. "I don't want to," he cries.

Deb silently curses herself. She knows her discomfort is manifesting itself as abrasiveness and making everything worse for her nephew. She gets down on his level. "I know it's weird, but…"

"I don't want to!" Harrison cries. Hannah jumps up from her seat on the bench and pulls Harrison to her.

"Debra, _stop_," Hannah hisses. She turns to Harrison. "You don't have to do it, baby."

"I want Daddy to come home!" Harrison cries.

Tears finally fill Hannah's eyes, too, as she takes the lid full of ashes and holds Harrison's hand. "If you could tell your daddy anything right now, what would you say to him?"

"I miss him," Harrison mumbles, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

"And you love him?" Hannah asks. Harrison nods.

"Why are you crying?" Harrison asks her.

"Because I love him, too," Hannah whispers.

Hannah dumps the ashes into the water and pulls Harrison into her lap, leaning her head against his as tears spill down her cheeks.

Deb watches them for a moment; Harrison turns around and wraps his arms and legs around Hannah's torso, burying his face into her neck. She cups the back of his head as tears continue to fall from her blue eyes. Deb finally turns back to the ashes resting in the decorative urn. She picks it up and wonders how many of his victims are lying in the ocean beneath her. Deb ponders the bumpy spiral of an existance she's been living since she found out the truth about her brother and how Hannah McKay, _of all people_, became a permanent presence in her life. She contemplates the blood on her own hands and that on those of the woman's behind her and feels a sharp sting of fear as she realizes it'll be up to them to make sure the sweet boy in the arms of a serial poisoner doesn't go down the same path.

She looks down and silently shakes the urn over the side of the boat, the thoughts in her head too loud for anything of lucidity to escape her lips. A few minutes pass, and Deb stares out into the night, finally admitting in a quiet voice, "Sometimes I think you got the easy way out, big brother."

**IV.**

The door slams so hard Hannah swears she feels the house shake.

She jumps from her place on the couch and finds an enraged Deb standing in a threatening stance by the door, arms crossed against her chest. When her heartbeat returns to normal, Hannah turns back to the book in her lap.

"Well, good evening to you, too," Hannah says in a cool, composed tone.

"Elway's dead," Deb says in a firm voice. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

Hannah glances over to the door again and meets Deb's eyes. They both know that Hannah has direct knowledge of Elway's death, and Hannah doesn't see the point in feigning shock and pretending otherwise.

"I know it's an unfortunate coincidence," Hannah says nonchalantly.

"_Unbelievable…_" Deb mutters. "Coincidence, my _ass_, Hannah."

Hannah closes her novel and places it on the coffee table in front of her. She leans forward onto her thighs as Deb remains fuming in her place.

"Well, it seems you think you already know what happened, so what would you like me to say?"

"I think that's what drives me the most out of my mind about you. How are you so goddamn fucking _great_ at this that I can't figure out how the hell you got to him?" Deb asks. Hannah pleads the fifth and remains silent, staring at Deb with her patented smirk. "Okay, you know what? I was wrong. _Fuck_ Dexter. Get out of my house."

Deb strolls confidently towards the kitchen, and Hannah stands, turning to follow her.

"Wh…seriously?" Hannah says.

"Yes, seriously," Deb says. After a beat, she adds, "Oh, don't worry. I'm sure I'll see you again after you off Husband Number Three. Hopefully someone will be able to keep you in handcuffs by then."

"I would never hurt your br-" She takes a sharp breath in when she realizes what she's about to say and returns to the couch, covering her mouth with her hand as tears instantly fill her eyes.

"_Shit_," Deb realizes. "You already thought of him as your husband, didn't you?"

Again, Hannah doesn't say anything but instead attempts to discreetly dab at her eyes to prevent her tears from escaping.

"That was out of line," Deb says in an attempt to apologize.

"It really wasn't," Hannah admits.

"What the hell am I supposed to do now? Arrest you? Ignore it and hope the case goes cold before Batista gets too far up my ass?"

"That's really your call."

Their eyes remained locked on one another's, as if they're silently willing the other to back down. Hannah lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding when Deb loses their unofficial staring contest with a roll of her eyes and a loud, "Mother_fucker_."

Hannah sinks back into the couch as Deb grabs two beers from the fridge. She walks over to the table by the door and pulls a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of the drawer. As she heads towards the porch, she looks at Hannah and sneers, "My shit-brained serial killer brother's dead, and I'm still an accessory to goddamn _murder_."

It shouldn't surprise her, but the force behind slamming of the sliding porch door startles Hannah all over again.

**V.**

Suitcases litter the living room.

A puzzled Deb takes in her surroundings as Hannah walks out of her bedroom, slipping her passport into her purse. She notices that she's no longer alone, lets out a soft, "Oh," and stands by one of her suitcases, holding her purse tightly in front of her stomach.

"Are you leaving?" Deb asks. Hannah nods slowly. "Where are you going?"

"I…I don't know," Hannah admits.

"You can't just leave!" Deb protests.

"Look, I know you've been protecting me out of respect to your brother's memory, and I appreciate that more than you know, but I can't stay here."

"Were you even going to fucking say goodbye?" Deb asks.

"I thought it'd be easier if I just slipped away," Hannah says.

"You _can't_ just fucking _leave_," Deb repeats, her voice rising.

"With all due respect, that's not really your choice."

"Hannah, I know you and I aren't exactly the BF-fucking-Fs that Harrison thinks we are, but I thought things were going alright," Deb says, her voice growing more frantic by the minute. "Why do you, all of a sudden, want to just…_go_?"

Hannah sighs and tries to explain herself. Deb goes to work all day and has a life and a career and a boyfriend. Harrison goes to school all day. Hannah sits in Deb's house. She reads. She hides. She cooks. She dwells over the promises Dexter made her and what could've been. She can't go back to her business. She can't build a greenhouse at Deb's beach house. She doesn't feel safe going much of anywhere in Miami, even though the people who so fiercely sought her out are dead. A four-year-old doesn't make a great conversationalist in the evenings, and Deb tries to stay away from her as much as possible. She has nothing to do with her days, and it's finally gotten to her.

"So, really, thank you for everything you've done for me, but it's just time for me to go," Hannah says.

She throws a duffel bag over her shoulder and starts to pull her rolling suitcase towards the door. Deb's eyes widen as she sees Hannah leaving, and she runs across the room, just barely beating Hannah to the door. Deb slams it shut and throws her body against it, cutting Hannah off from the outside world.

"Debra," Hannah sighs.

"No," Deb says firmly. "You will _not_ do this. You will _not_ take another parent away from my nephew."

"I don't really want to leave him, but I'm not really his…" Hannah starts.

"Yes, you are. You make him breakfast and help him with things like learning how to write his name, and you don't even seem to mind reading those inane kids' books with all of those hard-as-shit tongue twisters, and you hold him and let him sleep with you when he wakes up crying in the middle of the night, and I'm just his stupid goddamn aunt. I barely get a fucking _wave_ when I walk in the door," Deb says. She finally takes a breath and says, "You were going to be his mother the second you stepped on that plane to Argentina, and now, Dexter or not, you are his mother, and for fuck's sake, you are _not_ going to walk out this door and abandon him."

"This life is like being in prison," Hannah says.

"Then we'll go somewhere else," Deb hastily, desperately blurts out.

"What?" Hannah asks in disbelief.

Deb repeats her proposal to move, and, after a moment, suggests that getting away from Miami might be good for all of them. Hannah asks where they would go. Deb says she doesn't care, as long as there's no snow and a beach; she throws out California.

"What are you going to do in California?" Hannah asks.

"Maybe I'll learn to fucking surf or something. I don't know," Deb says. "I'm a cop; I can be a cop anywhere, but like _hell_ I'm losing another family member this year!"

Hannah freezes. Her arms fall to her sides and the ends of her mouth curve into a small grin. "You just called me family," she says.

"Yeah, it fucking surprised me, too," Deb says. She finally abandons her post at the door and slowly walks away, adding, "Don't make me say it again."

**VI.**

Deb has finally had enough of Hannah's shit.

She strolls into Hannah's new nursery, one of two properties the women have purchased in their new hometown between Los Angeles and San Francisco. The new house on the beach didn't leave a lot of room for cultivating plant life, so Hannah looked inland and found a small, empty shop with a big backyard in the historic town square.

"Hey," Deb calls. Hannah's sitting on the ground, working in the back corner of the newly constructed building. She glances over her shoulder.

"Hey," she replies.

Deb walks to the work table in the middle of the room and drops a wig, a box of hair dye, and, with a loud clang, scissors onto the wooden surface.

"Pick your poison," Deb says. After a beat, she adds, "No pun intended."

Hannah shoots her a fake grin. "Funny." Deb returns the phony smile as Hannah stands, wiping her hands on her denim shorts, and wanders over to the table. She looks confused. "What, uh…"

"I picked up my life and moved all the fucking way across the country so you could go out, and now we're here, and you've gone from hiding in my house all day to hiding in your new backyard garden all day. That empty building up there is supposed to be a store."

"We've only been here a month, Deb," Hannah reminds her.

"But I faciliated the buying of this place, and I dealt with the contractors to construct this little greenhouse you're standing in, and I was here when all this shit was delivered, and I go the grocery store, and I take Harrison to pre-school, so forgive me for being a little fucking skeptical," Deb says in a saccharine tone of voice.

"So I'm a little skittish," Hannah concedes. "Drop the overly nice bullshit, and tell me what all of this is for." She gestures to the hair products on her table.

"On the way to school this morning, Harrison decided to share that apparently my brother has been promising him Disney World on his fifth birthday for a very long time. We have to amend that to Disney_land_, but after all that little boy has been through, I am damn well going to fulfill that promise, and if I have to have 'It's a Small World After-fucking-All' in my head for a week, then you do, too," Deb explains.

"Oh, god…" Hannah replies. "Aren't we lucky we picked California…?"

"It's gonna be a long drive, but thank the fucking lord it's only a few hours away," Deb sighs. "So…you do whatever you need to do to that pretty blonde hair of yours to feel comfortable going out because we're leaving for Anaheim as soon as we can get him picked up and packed."

"Yes ma'am," Hannah mutters as Deb turns and walks away.

The hotel bed squeaks as the excited little boy in a pirate costume jumps up and down and up and down. Deb sits on the corner edge of the mattress, rocking back and forth with every jump.

"Han-_nah_!" Harrison calls, making the last syllable of her name as least three times as long. "_Mom_, what's taking so long?"

Deb checks her watch, rolls her eyes and knocks on the bathroom door. Long, loose red curls cascade around Hannah's shoulders, and, as she messes with the wig's sideswept bangs, she stares in the mirror with a scrunched up look of repugnance.

"What?" Deb asks.

"Why did you pick this look for me?" Hannah asks. "I mean, did you put any thought into it at all or did you just grab the first one you saw?"

"I thought that one would look good on you."

"And?" Hannah asks, turning to her for a second opinion.

"Oh come on," Deb scoffs. "You know you're fucking attractive. Move your ass."

"You think I'm attractive?" Hannah teases.

"_Go_!" Deb says, pushing her out the bathroom door.

Hannah steps out of the bathroom in the wig and a red sundress. As she pulls a white sweater on over her dress, Harrison asks why she's wearing a wig.

"Well, at Disneyland, there's this pirate ride where all the pirates want to hang out with the redhead, so since you're dressing up as a pirate, I thought I'd dress up, too," Hannah says. "All the other pirates are going to be so jealous of you."

Harrison asks if that's true; Hannah smiles and nods. Harrison likes the sound of that, and they start to head out, when Deb grabs Hannah's arm and asks how the fuck she knows that. Hannah admits that Harrison might not be the only one getting a wish fulfilled with this trip.

The big birthday button bearing his name glimmers in the sun alongside a shiny yellow First Visit button as Harrison walks down Main Street holding one of Hannah's hands and one of Deb's. Hannah's taking in her surroundings with an uneasy gaze, and the whimsical music and seemingly inescapable smell of cotton candy makes Deb want to vomit, but Harrison is oblivious to either woman's discomfort. He stops suddenly and asks for a picture in front of the castle.

Hannah picks him up and holds him against her hip to level his height with hers and Deb's. The photographer takes a couple pictures before handing a card containing their photos to Deb. He wishes Harrison a happy birthday, then compliments the women on their beautiful family.

"Our…do you think we're…no!" Deb stutters. She lets out a laugh and adds, "Oh, holy fuckballs, we're not together. He's not even my kid. I'm his aunt. She's his stepmom. Or…almost his…"

"He doesn't need to know our life story, Debra," Hannah quickly interrupts.

"We look like a couple?" Deb asks her. Hannah just shrugs.

"Have a magical day," the photographer says, quickly shrinking back to his camera in embarrassment.

Harrison resumes his position between the women, and Deb mutters, "It's going to be a long fucking day."

**VII.**

The little bell on the door of Hannah's fully-functioning flower shop dings as a little boy and his aunt sheepishly walk through the door. Hannah, who wears the red wig when she's in the shop, finishes up with a customer and walks around the counter. She crouches down and gives her son a hug.

"How was school today?" she asks.

"I got in trouble," Harrison admits.

"Why did you get in trouble?" she asks. Harrison shrugs and asks if he can have some juice. Hannah notices the guilty look on Deb's face and tells him to go ahead to the back and wait for her while she has a conversation with his aunt. Hannah stands back up, leans against her counter, and widens her eyes, waiting for Deb to speak.

"I went to pick him up, and his teacher asked to have a word with me," Deb mutters.

"What did he do?" Hannah asks.

"Apparently some fucktard kid made a rude comment about Harrison not having a dad, and Harrison told him to go fuck himself," Deb explains. There wasn't anything for Hannah to do but burst out laughing. "The teacher asked if I knew who he would've picked up _such language_ from." Hannah laughs harder, covering her mouth with her hand to suppress the giggles. Deb crosses her arms like a petulant child. "It's not funny!"

"You realize you couldn't even make it through that story without additional cursing, right?" Hannah points out.

"I'm just _bad_ at this," Deb sighs, taking a seat on a stool by Hannah's cash register.

"Bad at what?"

"Parenting! I mean, I don't even think of myself as a parent. _You're_ his parent, but in the eyes of the law and the reality where I'm not totally kidding myself, I'm his parent, too, and I'm fucking _bad _at it," Deb tells her.

"Did you ever want kids?" Hannah asks. Deb shoots her a look.

"Do you want to braid each other's hair and swap secrets now?" Deb asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I was just curious," Hannah says, holding up her hands in defense.

"I never really thought about it, so I guess not," Deb replies.

A silence settles throughout the room, and Hannah begins tending to a row of her shop's signature Phalaenopsis orchids. The stool Deb's sitting on creaks as she turns to find Hannah.

"Hey, that miscarriage story with Husband Number One…was that for real?" Deb asks.

"Wow, you don't beat around the bush, do you?" Hannah asks with a laugh. She considers ignoring the question and turning back to her flowers. Instead, she leaves her supplies on the shelf with the plants, and slides up onto the counter next to where Deb sits. "Yes," Hannah says with a deep breath. "Yes, that was very real, and even though I was very young when it happened, it was the hardest day of my life because I really wanted that baby."

"That's why you took to Harrison so quickly."

"Aw, he's an easy kid to love," Hannah smiles.

"Were you and Dexter gonna have kids?" Deb asks. "You know, if you made it to Argentina?"

Hannah smiles again, this time with a twinge of sadness. "We never talked about it…but it was my favorite thing to imagine," she says.

Another silence lingers in the air for a moment before Hannah says she gets a personal question in return. Deb agrees that's fair, and Hannah asks why she left Quinn to move to California for her when she and Quinn seemed to have a good thing going.

"Because I'm a masochist," Deb laughs.

"Seriously," Hannah says.

"I don't know…Harrison?" Deb replies. "He's the only other Morgan left, and leaving seemed like the best thing for us, and I'm protective to a fucking fault."

"Yeah, I used to be on the other end of that, remember?" Hannah says.

"I thought my brother needed protecting from the dangerous seductive poisoner," Deb says.

"I was never going to do anything like that to him. Or Harrison," Hannah says.

"I know that now, dumbass," Deb says. "Anyway, I left because I'll do anything to protect my family, even if it hurts me in the process. We probably wouldn't have worked out anyway."

A teasing grin graces Hannah's face, and she says, "I think you just called me family again."

Instead of telling her to shut up, Deb playfully rolls her eyes. Hannah chuckles and slides off the counter, wandering back over to care for her orchids.

"You have fake IDs, right? Your driver's license, stuff for this place…none of that says Hannah McKay anymore, right?" Deb asks.

"Uh, right," Hannah confirms. "Dexter set me up with a new identity before he died. Why?"

"I want to get you on something legal," Deb says.

"What?" Hannah asks.

"For Harrison," Deb says. "I don't know the logistics, but we Morgans are pretty damn good at having something happen to us, so if anything happens to me, I want to make sure they can't take Harrison away from you. Or vice versa, really."

Hannah, taken aback, empties her hands again and turns to face Deb. "That's…really sweet, Debra. Are you sure?"

"It's what Dexter would've wanted for him," she shrugs. Deb takes a breath, sits up a little straighter, and adds, "It's what _I_ want for him."

**VIII.**

Being alone on the anniversary of Dexter's death was both a blessing and a curse.

Deb hadn't meant to leave her all alone, but Astor and Cody had been asking if Harrison could visit them for a while, and the anniversary weekend happened to be the best time for both sides. Deb and Harrison had left for Orlando the day before, and, until that night, Hannah had relished in some quiet, Morgan-free alone time.

Tonight, however, Hannah had spent the better part of the hours since darkness fell curled up on the couch in an oversized sweatshirt and on and off tears. Realizing she's nearly cried herself into a migraine, and the night's not going to get any easier, she sits up, wipes the tears off her cheeks, and decides to turn in early, hoping she can will herself into sleep. She's almost upstairs to her bedroom when the creaking of the stairs is drowned out by the sound of the lock on the front door rattling.

She scurries back down the stairs and into the kitchen, sliding one of the sharpest knives she owns out of its sheath. Hannah creeps back towards the front door, knife poised and ready, should the need arise. The front door opens, and a soft, foyer light pops on, illuminating her intruder. Deb tosses her keys onto the small table by the door. She locks the front door behind her, turns around, and leaps into the air when she finds Hannah in the shadows.

"_Jesus_, holy mother of…" Deb gasps, clutching her chest over her heart.

"Sorry," Hannah shrugs, lowering the weapon.

"What the mother _fuck_ were you going to do with that knife?" Deb asks.

"I wasn't exactly expecting company," Hannah says. "What are you doing here?"

Deb's quiet for a long time, awkwardly shifting around as if she doesn't really want to answer the question. "I think we're both well aware of what today is," Deb mutters. "It's kind of important, and I didn't think either of us should be alone."

"You weren't alone," Hannah says.

Deb scoffs. "Come on…I don't know Rita's parents. Not really…I've only met them a few times, and they sure as hell didn't know Dexter. The only other person on the entire fucking planet who really _knew_ my brother is you, and I didn't want to be alone tonight, alright?"

Deb walks past Hannah on her way to the kitchen. Hannah turns around, keeping the knife tucked carefully by her side. As she exits the room, Deb calls out, "I'm not planning on being sober much longer, if you'd like to join me…"

The California nights are finally growing cool, and they sit around a crackling firepit on the back porch, watching the Pacific waves crash against the shore. Neither of them has said a word since they journeyed outside. Deb cracks open her second beer, while Hannah pours herself another glass of wine. Deb finally breaks the silence, asking if Hannah's okay.

"Red cheeks, puffy eyes…" Deb says. "I'm pretty sure that's how I showed up at your hotel room a year ago."

Hannah lets out a small, nervous chuckle and nods. "I really miss him," she admits.

"Yeah…" Deb agrees, downing at least half the beer bottle in one go. "Pathetic as that is."

"Why would that be pathetic?" Hannah asks.

"You and I were perfectly fine until I found out the truth, and you met him. Dexter fucking ruined our lives, and now we're sitting out here mourning his death? It's pathetic," Deb says.

Hannah's silent for a moment before saying, "You don't really mean that."

"He got Harrison's mother murdered. He metaphorically killed our father. He almost ruined my career. He betrayed you and put you in prison," Deb rants.

"Your career…_what_?" Hannah asks.

"Nothing," Deb mutters.

"Does Dexter have something to do with why you resigned as lieutenant?" Hannah asks.

Deb sighs loudly and finishes her beer, realizing that, whether she shares it with Hannah or not, she's about to relive the worst moment of her life. "Shit," she mutters and opens a third one. "Did Dexter ever tell you what happened to Maria LaGuerta?"

Hannah says no, so Deb relays the entire story for her: finding Dexter with a drugged LaGuerta and dead Estrada in the shipping container, Dexter's plan for keeping his secret safe, frantically trying to talk him out of it, and LaGuerta waking up and telling Deb to put him down.

"You killed her to protect Dexter," Hannah realizes.

"She was screaming at me to shoot him, and I should have," Deb says. "I know I should have; I know this was really my fault, but he was standing there surrendering. He dropped his knife and looked me and said, 'do what you gotta do,' like it would've been _okay_ for me to kill my goddamn brother, and looking at him like that…I couldn't." Hannah lips curve into a smile as Deb finishes her story with, "And I just…I just shot her."

"He didn't think you were going to shoot him," Hannah says.

"I figured that motherfucker was manipulating me, but how the fuck do you know that?" Deb asks. "And what the _fuck_ are you smiling at?"

"'Do what you gotta do?' He got that from me," Hannah reveals. "That's what I told him when I was on his table."

"You were on his _kill _table?"

"Horse tranquilizer, plastic wrap, and all," Hannah says with false bravado.

"_Shit_, before or after you guys…?" Deb asks.

"Well, that's _where_…" Hannah starts. "That was kind of our first date."

Deb pauses for a moment, staring at the other woman with a mixture of outrage and disgust on her face. "That is _fucked_ up, Hannah."

Hannah laughs. "It was an interesting night."

"So you were naked and bound to his table, with a knife inches from killing you, and you _taunted _him?" Deb asks. Hannah nods in confirmation. Deb laughs; she would never admit it, but her respect for the woman sitting next to her doubled, at least, in that moment. "What made you think he wasn't going to follow through?"

"Well, it was a gamble, but he took me to this place…this Christmas shithole that I'd always wanted to see, and it was closed. He knew that, of course, but we broke in. He thought he'd asked me out to get me alone and vulnerable, but if his intentions were really so menacing, why would he go through all that trouble to make me happy first?" Hannah replies.

"My brother was big on the symbolism," Deb mutters. "That's why I found him with Estrada and LaGuerta in a fucking shipping crate. You know the shipping crate story?"

"Yeah," Hannah nods. She sits up in her chair and asks, "Since we're back to that, should I state the obvious or can you get there on your own?"

"What?" Deb asks. "That in the moment I killed LaGuerta, I became no better or different than you?"

"Ah, I'm glad we cleared that up," Hannah says, leaning back in her chair with her boastful smirk.

"It occurred to me when I heard you'd escaped the next day," Deb admits. "Probably why I didn't try to find you right away."

"And yet you still acted all high and mighty when you did," Hannah says.

Deb rolls her eyes. "Look, the truth is we're _not_ all that different. We were both driven by our feelings for Dexter, and we both got burned because of it, but I also had a pretty big hand in fucking up your life, and maybe I should've just stopped fighting it the first time around."

Hannah nods, knowing that was as close to an apology as she'll ever get from Debra Morgan. "So maybe instead of feeling pathetic for mourning Dexter's death, you should celebrate surviving. Through all the shit Dexter's 'Dark Passenger' brought into our lives…"

"We endured," Deb finishes. She holds up her beer bottle. "I'll toast to that."

In the few moments between blissful sleep and the conscious world, Hannah senses something is different. The rising sun streaming through her white lace curtains normally wakes her at the crack of dawn, and the pillow under her head feels softer than she's used to. She rolls her head to the side and opens her eyes, expecting to get a glimpse of the street outside her window. Instead, she finds a half-shut door and a clock that tells her it's nearly afternoon.

Suddenly aware of an extra weight against her middle, she glances down and finds a long, tanned arm strewn across her body. Debra sleeps soundly on her stomach beside Hannah, her bare back exposed from the covers that have bunched around her waist. Hannah swiftly slides out of bed and finds her sweatshirt from the night before on the floor by the nightstand. She quickly slides it on and creeps out of the strange bedroom before its owner can awake.

Deb joins her in the kitchen only twenty minutes later, keeping her eyes firmly cast upon the floor as she walks into the room. Hannah's cooking brunch and greets Deb when she sees her arrive. When Deb doesn't answer, Hannah asks what the plan is concerning Harrison. Deb informs her of a ticket back to Orlando she purchased for the following afternoon.

Hannah awkwardly watches her head to the fridge for a bottle of water when she decides to rip off the band-aid and ask, "Do you remember what happened between us last night?"

Deb finally looks at her, and she swears she can hear the soft mewlings that escaped Hannah's lips the night before all over again. "Yup," she answers.

"Well…are we going to talk about it?" Hannah asks.

"Nope," Deb says immediately. She grabs an apple from the basket on the table and heads back upstairs, leaving Hannah alone in the kitchen.

"Okay," Hannah says to herself and keeps fixing breakfast.


	2. Or We Could Sail Away Forevermore

**IX.**

The tranquil silence of a warm California morning is punctured by the shrill ringing of the house phone. Hannah answers it on the second ring; the teenager on the other end is nearly drowned out by a pained cry that makes Hannah's stomach hurt, even from three thousand miles away.

Astor, one of the few people Deb trusted with the sincereity behind the move across the country and Harrison's living arrangements, asks to speak to Deb.

"What do you mean?" Hannah asks. "She's supposed to be there with you."

"Well, she's not," Astor says. "That's why Harrison's crying. He's scared we're going to put him on a plane by himself. I told him we wouldn't do that, but he won't listen to me."

"Okay, that doesn't make any sense. Deb left yesterday after lunch for the airport," Hannah tells her. "I watched her leave and tracked her flight."

"Well, either she wasn't on it, or she's lying in a ditch somewhere because we haven't seen her," Astor says. Upon hearing this, Harrison starts crying harder.

"Alright, Astor, that wasn't funny," Hannah says. Astor apologizes and says Deb's not answering her phone. "Um…okay, I'm going to figure this out. Can I talk to Harrison?"

"Yeah, hold on." The sobs grow louder as Astor passes the phone to her brother.

"Mommy?" Harrison whimpers.

"Hey, baby," Hannah says softly. "It's okay. You're not gonna be by yourself. I promise."

"Where's Aunt Deb? I wanna come home."

"And I can't wait for you to get home. I'm going to find out where she is, okay, sweetie?"

Hannah gently calms her son over the phone as she heads upstairs towards Deb's room to look up the flight reservations on her computer. She had tracked Deb's flight from a Post-It note full of information Deb had left on the fridge, but since Deb hadn't actually spoken to her since they woke up together a few days prior, she hadn't gotten a chance to confirm any of Deb's plans.

The door to Deb's room is shut, but the knob gives way, letting Hannah in. She covers her mouth on a gasp when she discovers that Deb is not only home, but not alone. Deb lets out a scream of surprise, and the man writhing on top of her turns his head to see what's going on.

"You could've fucking knocked first!" Deb yells.

"Yeah, I found her. Hold on a minute," Hannah says into the phone. She pulls the phone from her ear and hisses, "I didn't think you were in the _house_, let alone in bed with someone."

"Get off of me," Deb says, pushing against her lover's chest and wiggling to the side. She looks at Hannah again. "What the fuck do you want?"

Hannah holds out the phone. "Harrison would like to know where his aunt is."

"_Shit_," Deb exclaims. "Oh, fuck me." She turns to her bedmate and holds up a finger. "_Not you_."

She scrambles out of bed, pointing to the robe hanging off the closet door behind Hannah and asking if she'd mind. Hannah hands her the cotton robe, and Deb pulls it over her naked body, hurriedly tying it shut. She grabs the phone from Hannah, covers the mouthpiece with her hand, and turns to the man lying between her sheets.

"I'm gonna take this call, and you better not fucking be here when I get back," Deb tells him. She puts the phone up to her ear. "Harrison?...Oh, Astor…no, I'm fine. I just really suck."

Hannah purses her lips and turns to the man who shows no signs of moving as Deb leaves the room. The man shoots her a friendly smile and tells her his name is Angelo. Hannah says she doesn't care. The man's face changes as he glances between Hannah and the doorway.

"Are you and Deb…look, am I walking in to something here because she didn't mention anything, so I didn't know," Angelo says.

Hannah tells him to leave in a bitter tone and turns to peer out the open door, leaving Angelo time to get dressed. He finally passes her on his way out the door, telling her it was nice to meet her as he passes. Hannah shoots him a fake smile for pleasantry's sake.

Deb comes back into the room just as Angelo's leaving and hands a hung-up phone back to Hannah. Hannah remains in the doorway and glares at her with an icy stare as Deb begins to collect her clothing from around the room. She tosses it all onto her bed and finally meets Hannah's gaze.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Deb asks.

"Are you _kidding_?" Hannah replies. "What was that? Do you even _know_ him?"

"No, but…look, I'm not a lesbian," Deb whispers, as if someone might learn of their secret tryst.

Hannah's mouth drops open as Deb's intentions become clear. "Nobody said you were."

"So what is the big deal?"

"Do you know how fucking _gut-wrenching_ it is to pick up a phone and hear your kid screaming and know you're three thousand miles away from him?" Hannah yells. She feels tears springing to her own eyes and allows herself a short moment to break down before she takes a deep, calming breath. "You're really _so_ mortified by what happened between us that your foolish need to go out and prove something outweighed your responsibility towards Harrison?"

"I'm not talking about that," Deb says, heading out of the room. Hannah follows her just in time for the bathroom door to shut in her face.

Hannah sits in the silent kitchen, nursing a cup of tea when Deb comes downstairs dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. She sits down across from Hannah as Hannah takes a sip, her eyes glaring at Deb over the top of the teacup.

"I'm sorry," Deb says. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Hannah says. "I over-reacted. It's none of my business who you sleep with."

"It is when I'm so caught up in my own shit that I leave our kid stranded on the other side of the fucking country, and I'm sorry," Deb sincerely tells her.

"_Our_ kid?" Hannah asked, surprised by her choice of words.

"You know what I mean. Anyway, I'm going right now. I'll standby the first flights to Orlando I can," Deb says. She stands and starts to leaves but doubles back. "I'm not…I'm not _mortified_ by what happened. I'm just…" Hannah shakes her head, cutting Deb off.

"I know," Hannah says softly. "We don't have to talk about it, Deb."

"I just wanted to make sure that we were okay before I left."

"We're fine," Hannah says with a small smile. "It's just been an interesting weekend."

"That's one way to put it," Deb mutters.

**X.**

The gentle, bobbing ocean waves rock the surfboards' occupants back and forth as they wait for a big wave to arrive. Harrison sits on a board next to Deb, the calm beach day boring him more and more by the second.

He looks up towards their house and finds Hannah lying on a lounge chair about halfway between the ocean and their back porch. Hannah catches him looking for her and waves. Harrison waves back. Deb turns herself around so her board is facing her nephew.

"You're bored," Deb realizes.

"There are no waves today," Harrison moans. "How come Hannah never gets in the water?"

"Hannah?" Deb asks. "I thought she was Mom?"

"Not to you, silly," Harrison laughs.

Deb chuckles. "Have you ever asked her why she won't play in the water with you?" Harrison shakes his head no. "Well, let's go ask her."

They paddle into the shore and toss their boards onto the sand next to Hannah's chair. Deb sits on the sand next to her, while Harrison runs at her with open arms, gleefully asking if she wants a hug. Hannah, having fallen victim to that trick too many times during her short tenure as Harrison's mother, grabs the towel underneath her head and wraps it around him, pulling Harrison onto her lap. She plants kisses all over his cheek as he giggles. When he catches his breath, he asks her why she won't play in the ocean with him.

"I don't like water, sweetie," Hannah tells him. Harrison asks why. "You're afraid of stuff, right?" Harrison nods. "Well, I'm afraid of any water that's not in a bathtub or a shallow pool."

"Ah, come on," Deb says. "We can change that. We'll teach you how to surf!"

"Yeah!" Harrison cheers.

"I can't believe you actually learned how to surf," Hannah laughs. "But no, thank you."

That night, Harrison falls asleep before his head hits the pillow. Hannah, still dressed in her bikini and denim shorts, turns out the lights in his bedroom and wanders downstairs to find Deb on the porch, still in her wetsuit. Deb spots her and announces she's taking Hannah night-surfing. Hannah protests, and Deb grabs her arm, dragging her down the beach.

Deb tells her it's the perfect night to try it: the waves aren't too big, they won't go too far out, and Harrison's not watching, so there's no added pressure. Hannah doesn't take the bait. After multiple attempts at getting Hannah in the water, Deb concedes and surrenders. Instead, they lay on top of the surfboards, side by side, staring up at the night sky. They've fallen into a comfortable silence, and Hannah closes her eyes as a cool breeze washes over her.

"Hey," Deb says. Hannah turns to meet her eyes. "Why are you really scared of the water?"

"My father threw me into a lake when I was six years old. Never had a swimming lesson in my life, and of course, he couldn't be bothered to teach me, so he thought he'd just push me in and let me figure it out myself," Hannah told her, looking back towards the sky. "I came to and found a complete stranger saving my life while my father just stood there."

"Jesus, that'll do it," Deb replies, remembering that her father also tried to turn Hannah in to Miami Metro. "I don't know much about your dad, but he sounds like a delight."

"The best…" Hannah mutters.

"Where is he now?" Deb asks. "If you don't mind me asking."

"I'm not sure," Hannah says. She looks at Deb again and adds, "But I think Dexter could maybe tell us, if he were still here."

"Did you ask my brother to kill your father for you?" Deb asks with alarm.

"No," Hannah says. "Dexter just witnessed him in all his glory and wanted to protect me."

After a while, Deb says, "My brother was the only man in your life who never abused you, wasn't he? Kill table, notwithstanding." When Hannah doesn't answer, Deb glances over to the woman lying next to her and sees tears beginning to glisten in her eyes. Feeling bad for bringing it up, Deb reaches over and grabs Hannah's hand. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have…"

"I don't mean to be crying, but sometimes it hits me that it's up to me to make sure Harrison doesn't grow up to be that kind of man, and that's the only kind of man I've ever known, except Dexter, so I don't know how I'm going to do that."

"We don't want him to be like Dexter, either," Deb retorts. "Or either of us, for that matter."

"No, not particularly," Hannah agrees.

"It's not just on you," Deb promises. "How he turns out is going to be a reflection on both of us. That keeps me up at night sometimes, too."

"Yeah?" Hannah asks. Deb nods. Hannah chuckles. "Dexter always wanted us to find some common ground and get along."

"Leave it to my brother to die and permanently bond us," Deb muses, joining in the laughter. The mood grows somber again, and she softly asks, "I'm right, aren't I? About the guys you've known?"

"Kind of ironic, isn't it?" Hannah asks with false lightheartedness.

"It's fucking _sad_, babe," Deb replies, not even realizing the Fruedian slip that escaped her lips. The pet name isn't lost on Hannah, who looks toward Deb again with a small grin.

"_Babe_?" she asks.

"Shut up," Deb replies. Hannah laughs, pulls their joined hands up to her mouth, and places a small kiss on the back on Deb's palm.

**XI.**

"Jesus, Mary, and fucking Joseph, that's good," Deb moans.

Her eyes shoot open as melodious giggles fill her ears, and Hannah's cool hair brushes against her heated sex. Deb sits up slightly and finds Hannah hovering above her hips, her hand covering her mouth to suppress her laughter. Deb hurriedly threads her fingers through Hannah's blonde hair and gently tries to steer Hannah's head back to its former resting place.

"No, no," Deb protests. "Don't stop."

"I'm sorry," Hannah laughs. "Sometimes it's just…"

"Yeah, I'm a fucking riot," Deb replies quickly. "Go back to what you were doing."

"If you insist," Hannah purrs.

She scoots back down onto her stomach, grips Deb's leg, and places her lips against her inner thigh, kissing her way to where Deb wants her most. Her lips and tongue envelope Deb's pussy in a wet kiss, and Deb groans again, falling back against her pillow. Her hips rock in time with the minstrations of Hannah's tongue, and both women let out a simultaneous moan as Hannah curls a finger underneath her chin and slips it inside of Deb's body.

Another string of expletives leaves Deb's lips as she reaches her crescendo and an orgasm overtakes her body. Hannah laughs again and brings Deb down from her high, gently lapping at her folds until the quivering subsides.

"Motherfucker, how are you so good at this?" Deb wonders aloud. Hannah just chuckles again and places a small kiss between her legs. Deb props herself on her elbows in a realization. "You've done this before."

"Done what before?" Hannah asks from her place at the bottom of the mattress.

"You know," Deb says, pointing towards her lower body. "_This_."

"Yeah, we're not talking about that, remember?" Hannah asks, sucking her finger into her mouth.

"I meant you've been with another woman before," Deb clarifies.

"And what makes you think that?" Hannah challenges, pushing herself up to sit on her knees. She's still wearing her white nighty, and Deb's eyes linger on Hannah's hardened nipples, only just visible through the thin material.

"Because you're fucking good at this, and I'm a clumsy, fumbling mess," Deb says. Hannah smiles at her endearing insecurity and bites the side of her own lip. "Am I right?"

Hannah sighs, knowing she's been caught. "Arlene…every once in a while…"

Deb laughs, "_God_, everything they say about women's prisons is true, isn't it?"

Hannah shrugs and begins to slide off the end of Deb's bed. "Well, if that's how you feel, I guess you won't be wanting to do this again…"

Deb shoots up and grabs up Hannah's arm, stopping her before she can leave. "No, okay, the jokes aren't fucking worth it; come back," she forfeits. Hannah sits on her knees again, and Deb falls back against her mattress. "But you do have an unfair advantage."

Hannah leans forward and kisses Deb's thigh again. She kisses Deb's hip, swirls her tongue against her navel, and places a kiss on one of Deb's breasts. Deb grabs the sides of Hannah's body as Hannah straddles her and moves her lips up to suck on Deb's slender neck. Deb lets out another deep sigh and curls her leg around one of Hannah's as Hannah lowers her body onto Deb's. Hannah kisses her full on the mouth, cupping Deb's face in her palm. Deb's fingers brush Hannah's breast through her nightgown before tangling into her long hair again.

"Are you distracting me to get out of this conversation?" Deb accuses after their kiss ends.

Hannah just grins again and says, "Well, _if_ we were talking about it, this would be the time when I'd remind you that I came last time, too."

Deb picks her head off the pillow and meets Hannah's lips for another fervent kiss. Their lips and tongues mingle as Deb caresses down Hannah's body. She slips her hands underneath the blonde's white dress and curls her hands around Hannah's ass as Hannah slowly grinds herself into Deb's thigh. Hannah breaks their kiss on a moan and tilts her head back; Deb takes the opportunity to trail the tip of her tongue down the side of Hannah's neck. Keeping Hannah in place on her lap, Deb sits up as she starts nibbling on Hannah's earlobe.

"See?" Hannah says in a breathy whisper, her lower body still gliding against Deb's thigh. "You're better at this than you think you are."

Deb smiles against Hannah's neck and pulls back just far enough to give herself room to tug Hannah's nightgown off her body. She tosses it off the side of the bed, squeezes the bottom of one of Hannah's breasts, and sucks her nipple into her mouth. Hannah gasps as Deb's teeth gently bite down on the sensitive flesh. Her legs wrap around Deb's back, and Deb rolls her onto the mattress.

**XII.**

They still don't talk about it.

They don't combine bedrooms or present themselves as a couple or even _think_ of themselves as a couple. There are no candles, no public hand holding, and no cuddling on the couch. There are no shared bubble baths after long days at work, no kisses hello or goodbye, and no finding a babysitter for Harrison so they can go on dates.

Their days are normal. They find comfort in each other after darkness falls.

They never talk about it. If the little boy who lives with them senses that something's changed, he never asks.

He wanders into Hannah's room in the middle of the night, but his tears are too heavy for him to notice the other woman sleeping in her bed. He clutches his monkey stuffed animal in his arms and puts his hand on Hannah's shoulder, gently shaking her.

Cries for _mommy_ bring her back into the conscious world, and she pulls the covers back, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and sitting on the edge. She lifts Harrison into her lap and holds him tightly as his tears moisten her thin t-shirt. The monkey falls to the floor, and Harrison sobs harder.

"Hey, it's okay," Hannah whispers, wondering how the hell Deb is managing to sleep through all of this. She picks up the plush toy and hands it back to him. "You brought Monkey tonight."

"He reminds me of Daddy," Harrison cries.

"Did you have a dream about your daddy?" Hannah asks. Harrison nods. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"My other mommy was there, too," Harrison tells her, matching her whispers.

"You can still tell me," Hannah promises.

Hannah only gets pieces of the story through the whispers and the sobs and the hiccups, but she catches the important stuff, and her heart sinks as Harrison tells her about walking downstairs to find his parents on the beach, inviting him to play in an ocean full of blood. She tilts his chin up so that he's looking at her. He hugs Monkey close to his chest as Hannah strokes his cheek and brushes his tears away and promises none of it was real.

"How do you know?" Harrison asks.

Hannah doesn't know what to say, so she picks him up, slips on flip flops, and takes him outside to where the clear water meets the shore.

Deb, clad in a t-shirt and sleep shorts, is in the process of turning on a bedside lamp when they arrive back in Hannah's bedroom, and Harrison, still perched in Hannah's arms, notices his aunt's presence for the first time.

"Hi, Aunt Deb," he says with a wave. He looks at Hannah. "Did she have nightmares, too?"

"What?" a drozy Deb asks. "Oh no, we were uh…we were talking, and we must have fallen asleep. You had nightmares?"

"Yeah, but he's all better now, right?" Hannah asks.

Harrison nods but asks, "Can I sleep with you anyway?"

"Of course you can," Hannah answers, kissing his cheek. She lowers his bare feet to the downy carpet, and he tosses Monkey onto the bed on his way to the bathroom.

"How often does he do that?" Deb asks. "Sleep with you?"

"Umm…maybe three nights a week or so," Hannah reveals. Deb looks at her with concern. "It used to be every night, Deb."

"What was the dream about?"

"Dexter and Rita and an ocean made of blood," Hannah says, sinking back into her mattress.

"Motherfu…" Deb starts. She's half way through the profane word when the bathroom door swings open, and Harrison re-enters the room. Deb puts on a guilty smile and finishes with, "Phooey," which makes Hannah giggle.

Harrison hops up onto the bed and snuggles into Hannah's open arms, and Deb sits up, announcing her exit.

"No, Aunt Deb, stay," Harrison says. "Hannah's bed is big enough for all three of us."

"All of us _and_ Monkey?" Deb asks with feigned disbelief.

"He fits, too," Harrison promises. "Stay. Please?"

"Yeah, Aunt Deb," Hannah says. "Stay."

**XIII.**

She's just barely going to make it.

The designated start time for trick-or-treating is six o'clock in the evening, and Deb pulls into the driveway of her beachfront home at 5:58. She races inside the unlocked door and finds Batman running around her foyer.

"Whoa, Batman, what are you doing here?" she cries. "What'd you do with Harrison?"

Harrison pulls his Batman mask up and smiles. "It's me, Aunt Deb!"

Deb feigns surprise, tells him he looks awesome, and asks where Hannah is, just as the woman in question runs down the stairs. Deb's face contors into an immediate 'she-is-_not _-really-wearing-that' look, and she suggests Harrison go get his trick-or-treat bag. Harrison agrees, tells Hannah she looks _so cool_, and exits.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" Deb asks as soon as Harrison's out of earshot.

Hannah's standing before her in her red wig, a green dress, and black boots, with plastic vine leaves wrapped around her body and green glitter makeup smeared across her skin.

"I wanted something to match Harrison, but I don't know anything about Batman, so I did a little research, and this character seemed…appropriate," Hannah said.

"Poison fucking Ivy seemed appropriate?" Deb asked.

"Well, you, of all people, won't argue with that, right?" Hannah laughs. Deb stands before her, a seemingly permanent look of horror etched upon her face. "Oh _come on_, Deb. It's Halloween. Lighten up."

Hannah stops laughing when Deb, who swore up and down she wasn't dressing up for Halloween, this year or _ever_, disappears for a few minutes and returns in her old Miami Metro police uniform. Hannah furrows her brow in contempt, and Deb pridefully smirks at her in retaliation. Harrison celebrates over getting both of the women to dress up for trick-or-treat and runs out the door.

Deb passes Hannah on the way outside and says, "Not so hilarious now, is it?"

"No," Hannah says to herself through clenched teeth. "No, it's not."

While she's mostly unnerving Hannah simply to delight in the fact that she _can_, Deb's not too proud to admit, at least to herself, that Hannah's costume disturbs her, too. Though she now acknowledges that Hannah never just killed for the fun of it, she still has days where she's apprehensive about being so close to such an unapologetic killer. Deb hasn't found any poisons growing in Hannah's new greenhouse (and she's made it a point to check every now and then,) but she still finds herself hesitating to eat Hannah's meals after they've had a fight.

Hannah, on the other hand, hasn't even thought of killing someone since she rid her life of Elway, but she'll catch a glimpse of Deb's police badge, or her handcuffs will fall out of her pocket, or Deb will say something about someone getting their due justice, and the floor between herself and Deb turns into eggshells. She had once asked Dexter if the idea of she and him was too crazy to consider continuing their liaison, but now she has days when she thinks that relationship had _nothing_ on permanently living and sometimes sleeping with a former lieutenant of homicide.

Lucky for them, Harrison is so caught up in the fun of Halloween, he doesn't detect the tension between the women accompanying him as they walk down the street. Deb strides confidently in her old uniform, while Hannah keeps her arms crossed protectively against her chest and her eyes averted from Deb and just about everyone else. She knows that most people they pass probably think Deb is simply wearing a costume and certainly don't know who she really is, but walking down the street next to Deb dressed like that feels like being paraded into Miami Metro in handcuffs all over again.

After Harrison falls asleep, Hannah finds Deb eating M&Ms in her uniform on the couch. She sneers, "Well, congratulations, Deb, you asserted your dominance over me quite nicely tonight."

"Likewise," Deb says, popping another chocolate candy into her mouth.

Hannah walks around the front of the couch and stands before her. "What does that mean?"

"You somehow, since you re-entered our lives back in Miami, got me to believe that I was completely wrong about you and even feel _sorry_ for how I treated you," Deb says, standing to even out their heights. "But _this_ is obviously who you are. You're a manipulative killer, and despite what you say, you clearly fucking like it."

"This is all about a _costume_?" Hannah asks in disbelief. "Look, contrary to what you _so_ want to believe, I'm not proud of my history, but if I had to do it all again, I _would_ make those same decisions, and I'm not going to apologize for that, but I won't be making decisions like that anymore."

"And how do I know that?" Deb asks.

"Because I don't need to!" Hannah cries. "I made those decisions because it was the only way I knew how to survive, but there's nothing about my life now that needs _surviving_, which is something I've largely credited to you, but I guess I was wrong about you, too."

Deb tosses the bag of candy down onto the table that separates them, unsure of what to say. "I wouldn't do it, you know."

"But you could," Hannah replies.

"Yeah, and you could poison me tomorrow, but I like to think _you_ wouldn't."

"I wouldn't," Hannah promises.

"Okay," Deb shrugs.

"Okay," Hannah echoes.

The women stand in a stalemate on opposite sides of the coffee table. Hannah's eyes still linger on the police uniform before she finally lets out an aggravated sigh.

"Oh my god, will you take that fucking thing off already?" Hannah groans.

Deb raises her eyebrows in surprise and smirks at the other woman. "I will if you will," she hisses.

Deb thinks she can almost see the 'to hell with it' thought drift across Hannah's brain as she comes to join her by the couch. She grabs Deb's face, their lips meeting in a heated kiss. Buttons yield and zippers slip down their tracks as the women ungracefully fall to the couch, still locked in a passionate embrace. Deb yelps as Hannah comes crashing down on top of her, and Hannah shushes her, casting her eyes towards the second floor of their home. Deb pulls her down for another kiss, legs thread together, and the costumes lay forgotten on the living room floor.

**XIV.**

"Shit, you're awake," Deb blurts out as she walks into Hannah's bedroom. She's sitting on her bed in a button-down shirt and panties, knees bent, with papers covering her lap and a laptop computer resting by her side.

"Well, hello to you, too," Hannah murmurs. She glances at a clock and finds that it's nearly 1:30 in the morning. "Oh my god, are you just getting home?"

"Unfortunately," Deb groans. "Why are you awake? Don't you usually get up at the butt crack of dawn?"

"Can't sleep," Hannah reveals. "One of those nights, I guess."

"Are you working?" Deb asks.

"Accounting for the flower shop," she says, holding up some old purchase orders. "Let's call it inspiration. Why is it such a travesty that I'm still awake?"

"I had a shitty, fucked up day, and I was going to sneak in here and use your bathtub," Deb admits, immediately eliciting a grin from Hannah.

"Choosing the beach view over the master bedroom doesn't mean you forever forfeited the bathtub," she says. "You don't have to be sneaky about it."

Hannah notices the bathroom door slowly start to open about forty minutes later. She chuckles to herself and calls, "Still awake, Deb."

Deb fully opens the bathroom door, dressed in a thin t-shirt and pajama shorts. "Well, this is just a banner night for both of us, huh?"

Hannah moves her laptop to the table by her bed and pulls back the covers in invitation. "Wanna stay for a little while?" she asks.

Deb walks over to Hannah's bed, loosening her damp hair from its ponytail, and lies on her side on the edge of the mattress, facing away from Hannah. Hannah chuckles again and asks her what she's doing.

"You look busy," Deb mutters.

Hannah leans over, grabs Deb's side through the bed covers, and kisses her cheek. "You're not bothering me, if that's what you're worried about," she tells her, returning to her side of the bed. Deb rolls onto her back and glances over at Hannah and the work she's doing.

"Are you wearing Dexter's shirt?" she asks.

"Uh…" Hannah says, glancing down at her attire. She clutches the shirt in her hand and answers, "Yeah. Is that weird?"

Deb gives a little shake of her head and says, "It's nice."

"So do you want to talk about this shitty, fucked up day?" Hannah asks.

"No," Deb instantly replies, staring at Hannah's ceiling. After a few moments, she sighs and says, "My witness died. I spent most of the day in the hospital."

"The one for the big trial next week?" Hannah asks. Deb nods. "No, what happened?"

"The lawyer and I went over there around 4 to discuss his testimony, and we found him in a pool of blood. It was actually a lot like when I found you after that Ukrainian guy kidnapped you to mess with Dexter," Deb told her. "Someone stabbed him. He survived the surgery, but then he didn't wake up, and then he coded, and they took him back into surgery, and…our whole fucking case was wrapped up in his testimony."

"I know; I'm sorry," Hannah sighs.

"The really fucked up part is I just keep thinking about Dexter," Deb admits. "This guy's gonna get off. That testimony was our smoking motherfucking gun, and without it…the thought of this douche out there again makes my skin crawl."

"But you're not going to…" Hannah starts.

"_Fuck_ no. Of course not," Deb quickly replies. "But I hate that I can even fucking _understand_ it." She's quiet for a few moments before she almost sheepishly adds, "Something else happened, too. This doctor at the hospital asked me out, but I said no," Deb tells her, eyes still fixed upon the ceiling.

"Why are you telling me this?" Hannah asks.

"You like it when we talk and share things like _girls_, so I'm fucking sharing."

Hannah grins again. "Why did you say no?"

Deb finally turns her head against the pillow to look at Hannah. In a voice barely above a whisper, she utters, "You know why."

**XV.**

"Go get ready for school, sweetie," Hannah commands, running the dirty breakfast dishes under the stream of the kitchen faucet. "We need to leave in twenty minutes."

"Okay," Harrison replies, hopping down from his stool at the kitchen counter.

Deb waits till the little boy leaves the room and slides around the kitchen island. "You know what we could do with twenty minutes?" she drawls.

She grabs Hannah's hip from behind and presses her body into Hannah's back, making her intentions clear. Hannah pretends to ignore her and continues to wash the dishes. Deb tucks Hannah's loose blonde locks behind her ear and dips her head around to playfully bite her earlobe.

"Well, aren't you frisky this morning?" Hannah finally replies in a low, husky voice.

"Maybe breakfast was so fucking healthy, I'm ready for a little dessert," Deb grins, her hand trailing dangerously close to the waistband of Hannah's denim shorts.

"It wasn't bad, though, right?" Hannah asks, continuing to ignore Deb's advances.

"Nothing you make is ever _bad_, Hannah," Deb says. She suckles on Hannah's neck and slowly glides the button on her shorts from its loop.

"Debra," she warns. Her body betrays her as she feels a rush of warmth between her legs when Deb slides her hand down the front of her underwear.

"Come on, we've only got, like, eighteen minutes left," Deb whispers. Her fingers tease Hannah's dampening entrance, and Hannah sighs, turning her head for a proper kiss.

Deb's fingers slip from Hannah's shorts as Hannah turns to face her, wrapping her arms around Deb's neck. She tugs on Deb's bottom lip with her teeth, and Deb gently pushes her up onto the counter next to the sink. Hannah reaches to turn the water off as Deb begins to caress her again. She quickly jumps away from Hannah, however, when little footsteps come bounding down the stairs.

"Mom, did someone sign my permission slip?" Harrison calls, beginning his question before he's even in the room. He's holding his backpack but still dressed in his pajamas.

"It's in your blue folder, honey," Hannah promises.

"Okay, thanks!" he says and leaves as quickly as he entered.

A guilty-looking Deb glances over at Hannah, who sits on the edge of the counter with flushed cheeks and an amused grin.

"Should I…" Deb starts.

"I think the moment's over," Hannah laughs, sliding off the counter. She buttons up her shorts as Deb grimaces.

"Little cock-blocker…" Deb mutters. "Rain check?"

"Oh, absolutely," Hannah says in the same husky voice as before. She kisses Deb's mouth and turns back to the dishes. She turns the water back on but almost immediately pushes it off again and turns to face Deb.

"What?" Deb asks.

"I know we agreed we weren't going to say anything, but…he's going to figure it out eventually," Hannah says.

"If we tell him now, all he'll hear is that new mommy used to sleep with Daddy, but now she sleeps with Aunt Deb."

"He's six. I'll don't think he's old enough to think of it in terms of _sleeping with_ anybody."

"It's too complicated," Deb says. "When he _does_ realize what's going on between us, he'll be old enough to understand _why_."

"Do you?" Hannah asks. "Understand why?"

Deb's quiet for a long time before she sighs and says, "It just…I don't know; it just _works_. Does there have to be a bigger reason?"

**XVI.**

Hannah doesn't wear the red wig anymore.

She's not sure whether she's just finally accepted that no one's actually looking for her anymore or if she just feels secure in her life with Deb and Harrison, but as she sits among the other parents at Harrison's kindergarten graduation, she's nervous for a reason that does not include her natural appearance being on display for the first time in nearly two years.

Harrison left his graduation cap at the house, and Hannah was so excited about getting her little boy to this milestone that she forgot to check and make sure they had everything before departing for the school. Deb promised to leave the station early to retrieve the hat, but she hasn't yet arrived. The kindergarteners are lined up next to the stage, mothers taking pictures and fussing over their little one's attire, and Harrison catches Hannah's attention. He mouths his question, asking for Aunt Deb, and Hannah checks her watch and sighs.

"Looking for this?" Deb says, dangling the green hat in front of Hannah's face.

"Oh my god, you're the best," Hannah sighs, uncharacteristically kissing Deb's cheek as she sits down in the empty chair beside her.

"How's he doing?" Deb asks.

"He's nervous," Hannah says, slipping her camera into her purse so she can get up and run the hat to her son. Her face melts as she looks at Deb and adds, "It's so cute."

"It's his ceremony, but I feel like _we've_ accomplished something," Deb notes. "How fucking weird is that?"

"I think that's called being a parent," Hannah laughs. "I'll be right back."

She puts her purse on her seat and slides past Deb, scurrying to the front to get to Harrison. A couple probably a decade older than Deb claims the empty seats on the other side of Hannah's chair. The man gets up to grab graduation programs, and the woman glances over at Deb.

"First graduation ceremony?" she asks.

"What?" Deb asks, tearing her eyes away from Harrison.

"First kid to graduate kindergarten?" the woman asked.

Deb laughs. "Only kid, but yeah, first time at this rodeo. How did you know?"

"You just look so proud," the woman replied. "Which one's yours?"

Deb scans the line of kindergarteners until she finds Hannah securing the green hat on Harrison's blonde head. Harrison grins as she finishes, and she beams back at him, tapping his nose with her fingertip.

"Harrison," Deb says to the woman next to her. She points and adds, "Right there."

Just as Deb finishes pointing them out, she sees Hannah looking for her. Hannah taps Harrison arms and looks towards Deb; Harrison finds Deb in the crowd and waves, shooting her the same big smile he'd given Hannah. Deb returns the wave and turns back to the other woman as Hannah starts making her way back to their seats.

"They're mine," Deb says.

"Well, you seem to have a lovely family," the woman says.

"I like them," Deb smiles.

"What?" Hannah asks, sliding past Deb and taking her seat again.

"Oh, that woman was just telling me what a lovely family we have," Deb tells her as the woman's husband returns.

"Oh," Hannah says, shooting Deb a look. "And you're okay with that?"

"Why the fuck wouldn't I be?" Deb asks accusatorially.

"Well, you nearly traumatized a poor kid at Disney when he dared to say something like that."

"Feelings change," Deb shrugs as if it's nothing.

The graduation song starts playing, and Deb immediately sits up a little straighter, her face breaking out into a prideful grin. Hannah watches Deb with a smile of her own. Deb grabs her arm in excitement as Harrison takes his place on the risers at the front of the room.

"They certainly do…" Hannah mutters, turning to find her boy on stage.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! Review? :)**


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